I have joined the long defeat
that falling set in motion
all my strength and energy
are raindrops in the ocean
Once upon a time, I wanted to write. I liked to put thoughts to paper. I liked the idea of ideas. I thought I knew what good writing was instinctively. I seemed to know when words were correctly selected and placed. Did I really and do I now? Who knows. But it's what I thought. It seemed like it was something I was decent at doing - when I wasn't much account for anything else.
There have been a lot of beatings since then. Reality showed up one morning with nowhere else to go and has been my constant companion 'lo these many years.' It's one thing to think of yourself as a writer and quite another to be one. Sometimes - but less often - I think about what might have been. Would I have made it somewhere? Probably not. Mr. Reality kicks off his slippers and leans back in the sofa and says, "Did you say something?"
So since then, I've had to satisfy myself with writing specifications, writing professional letters and writing a bazillion e-mails. In my writing world, I have to treat each word as if it would be dissected by a lawyer. "Well, Mr. Long, can you tell us what you meant by the word 'Sincerely'?"
so conditioned for the win
to share in victor's stories
but in the place of ambition's din
I've heard of other glories
So now my words have caught up with me. Years ago, I was inspecting on a job away from our office. Late each night, as I passed back through the office - well after everyone else had left - I would read a nonsensical note left for me from Dan. And I would in turn, write a nonsensical note for him and leave it on his desk. I remember that it was the highlight of the whole day. I'd sit down and just let it fly. It was as if a part of my brain that had sat idle for days, weeks, months just powered up. Gears started turning and words that had lain dormant came tumbling out. It was a therapeutic Post-It.
Which brings us to this Web-Log.
I'm dipping my toe into the sea of internet opines - like anyone knows or cares. Do I care? What is it that I expect to gain? Well. Maybe that little ember of creativity still burns. Maybe I will find out something about myself. Maybe I'll remember forgotten things. Maybe I will become something I had hoped to be.
I can't just fight when I think I'll win
that's the end of all belief
and nothing has provoked it more
than a possible defeat
~ Sara Groves
So here we go.